


A Precipice in Front, Wolves Behind

by bamfbugboy



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Gen, Post-Endgame, Reminiscing, Romance, Self-Sacrifice, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 08:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9538826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamfbugboy/pseuds/bamfbugboy
Summary: A fronte praecipitium a tergo lupi. A precipice in the front, wolves behind. The gravity of the situation weighs upon Commander Jane Shepard.





	

Shepard’s stance, posture, and facial expression tell one story while her green eyes tell another. Ever the epitome of what a soldier should be, she always buries the difficult emotions until later, if later ever comes. Lately “later” has been postponed–at least since they have arrived in Tuchanka’s orbit.

There’s much to be happy for, given the success of her mission–the Genophage cured, Eve and Wrex alive and ready to produce once all this is over, and Krogan support for Palaven. All of which are good things, necessary things. But the loss of her “Scientist Salarian” makes it hard for her to stay composed as the archetype soldier.

With so much death on a regular basis, she has grown to compartmentalize the pain until it can be sorted out later. After losing so many, it is the death of Mordin that makes her shield crack significantly.

Garrus notices. He tells her to get some well-earned rest, which she no doubt wants to take advantage of. Restful sleep is a fantasy now; her sleep is riddled with waking nightmares. Of a young boy consumed in flames before her eyes–of Earth crumbling around her–of her loved ones waiting for her on the other side. She mourns in her dreams, but such makes her more exhausted than before.

In the end, it only fuels her desire for justice and retribution against the Reapers.

x X x

Shepard remembers three words: control, synthesis, and destroy. She remembers it all coming down to one decision, and in the end she chose to fulfill her mission to the end, even if it killed her. It seemed the most fair to everyone, as it was the collective decision: defeat the Reapers. Control had been the indoctrinated Illusive Man’s, and synthesis was not her choice to make. She knew war would come, it always did, but it could be over so many other variables beside organics and synthetics. In the end, she pulled out her pistol and limped away from the cruel appearance of the Crucible’s AI.

As she limped over to the appropriate node, she thought of all the people she loved, who deserved happiness and peace, however idealistic the sentiment seemed. She thought of Wrex and Eve, of all the unborn Krogan to be, of EDI’s growing humanity and Joker’s humor, of Tali'Zorah picking out a home on her once lost homeworld, of Legion’s sacrifice and the symbiosis of the Geth and Quarians, of Lt. Steve Cortez and James Vega sharing a few laughs in the shuttle bay, of Liara and all the respect and honor she deserves from her people and every other race for finding the Prothean schematics, of Jack for finding her place in the galaxy helping the young, of Samara standing more proudly with her daughter, of Miranda finally being able to spend her life with the company of her sister, of Jacob Taylor and his own child on the way, of Javik finding peace with the souls of the dead, of Anderson being so damned proud of her, and finally of Garrus Vakarian–

Garrus made her stop in her tracks, if only for a moment, as she stood in front of the Crucible. She clutched at her bleeding stomach and felt her insides clench tightly as she remembered how much he loved her and supported her as she bore these nearly bone-crushing, desperate weights upon her shoulders, even now, when hope for the future dangled by a thread. She knew her future was gone, but his wasn’t. Her eyes watered and her fingers shook over the trigger.

“I will always love you Garrus.”

And she began firing.

x X x

Air quakes in her shaky lungs as consciousness awakens her body. A groan sighs out faster than a fresh breath of air as the realities and consequences of living bring the return of pain. Her body is broken, but she is alive. Ultimately the pain is worth it. Alive. She never thought she would have this chance. Her thoughts are neutral; there isn’t a consensus of whether she should be happy or angered or regretful for being alive, as she doesn’t know what she’s waking to other than pain.

When her eyes open she sees the blue sky. Clouds parted and sunshine trickling through the murky atmosphere. Though not a religious person herself, she equates the image to an old Baroque painting of cherubs and angels descending from heaven to greet mortals.

Then it hits her. She might not be alive; she might be dead, and she really has a soul and she’s in heaven. Immediately she hopes it’s a heaven for all species. Commander Shepard, for all the brass and honor and dignity and unshakeable sense of duty, wouldn’t be able to function without those she loved–or at least something worthy to stand for–and in heaven of all places she deserves a break.

It isn’t heaven, she realizes as her hearing properly returns to her, and instead it’s a busy medical evac center bustling with refugees, doctors, and soldiers. She blinks and turns her head to see other soldiers lying on cots. She tries to move her body, to reach a hand up to rub her disbelieving eyes, but she cannot due to her arm being in a sling. She uses the other with more success, and quickly realizes the extent of her wounds. Her free arm is marginally hindered by an IV. Her pale skin is blotched with blue and black bruises, her wrist is wrapped in white gauze soaked in medi-gel. It’s brutal, and she wonders what the rest of her body looks like.

“Commander,” a pause, “Shepard?”

Her head swings to the side and she sees Jack, in all her tattoos and scars, battered as well but alive and grinning.

“Jack,” Shepard croaks out with a growing smile. She tries to sit up, but Jack’s firm hand presses her back.

“Shit Shepard, did you go and fight the Reapers single-handedly?”

Shepard’s grin turns into a half-hearted smile. “No. Course not.”

“Hell of a fight. Whatever you did, it worked.”

Shepard closes her eyes and nods. “What happened?”

“Rodriguez and I were supporting a group of soldiers fighting against a group of husks. Just when we thought we were fucked for good and overwhelmed, all of a sudden this orange light consumes us all and the husks fall dead.” Jack folds her arms across her chest. “Thought we were lucky till we got back to base camp. Heard stories of the Reapers malfunctioning. You’ve been out for two weeks.”

She tries to sit up again but Jack pushes her back down. “The others, Garrus, James–”

“Those crazy sons of bitches got out alright. They’re not here though, but we’ve received a green light.” Jack shrugs. “Word on the street is Garrus is all scarred up again. That should help with your sex life…”

Though she wants to revel in victory, Shepard’s mind drifts off unwillingly back into darkness, but this time with a smile on her face.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
